


You're The Sunflower (I Think Your Love Would Be Too Much)

by hadesandziggy



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games), Red Dead Redemption 2
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-03-01 04:35:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18793108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hadesandziggy/pseuds/hadesandziggy
Summary: Arthur and Josiah both have feelings for you, but whose heart will you accept in the end?





	1. What a Sunflower Means

Sunflowers always reminded Arthur of you, when he looked into rich shop windows and saw the flowers, he would always shyly smile to himself and think of the photograph you always carried of a field of them; the photograph did the beautiful petals no justice, but even in black and white, they looked gorgeous. At times, Arthur often asked himself if he could find any for you, but then, his mind always trailed back to the devastating thought that you only saw him as a friend - he always decided against finding any of the bright yellow flowers for you. Of course, it didn't help that Trelawny had worked his way in between you and Arthur, always showing off his silly magic tricks and complimenting you until the cows came home; not a day went by that Arthur didn't wish for Trelawny to get out of the picture. Sure, Arthur knew you were close with other members of the gang - Charles and Javier, especially - but he knew that that was a different kind of bond, and he didn't pay it any attention, not really. 


	2. Arthur's Return

Hitching his horse beside yours, Arthur dismounted and groaned; he had only been gone for a little while to pick up some supplies from town, but when he saw you sat with Trelawny in your tent, he felt a pang in his chest; grumbling, Arthur shook his head, and went to go talk to Hosea, who was sat on a nearby rock, seemingly watching the world go by.    



	3. A Night Out

"And that, dearest, is why you never take a dog into a brothel," Trelawny concluded his little story, which had you barking with laughter as you clutched onto his arm to keep yourself from falling over; he was more than happy to tell you tall tales of past events, knowing they made you smile. When asked about you, Trelawny often liked to say that your smile was more gorgeous than the brightest of sunflowers.    
Shaking your head, you cleared your throat as you straightened yourself back up and slowly let go of his arm. "Y'know, Josiah, you tell the best damn stories."    
A proud smile came to lay across his lips as he shrugged. "I do try, for you."    
There was no doubt that his words had a certain romantic inclination about them, but somehow, you didn't notice as you stood up, looking down at him as he sat on your cot. "I was gonna go into town a little later, have a few drinks at the saloon, if you wanna join me?"    
"That would be wonderful," Trelawny grinned, standing up and taking your hands in his as he kissed your cheek before letting go. "Shall we say six o'clock?"    
You nodded, doing your best not to show how his touch and his sweet little kids had made your heart skip a beat. "Sure. Six o'clock, I'll meet you by the horses."    
"Who you meetin' by the horses?" A familiar, gruff, voice asked from behind you. Arthur. The way he shyly smiled at you as he stood there made you swallow thickly and melt as you bit the inside of your lip and fumbled with your words.    
"Uh, Trelawny," you explained, "we, uh, we was gonna go to the saloon, bout six... do you wanna come, Arthur?"    
He considered it, a quiet drink with you sounded like heaven on earth, but with Trelawny there... well, it didn't make it sound nearly as good; clearing his throat, Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. "Sure."    


* * *

When six o'clock rolled around, you met Arthur and Trelawny by your horses, your horse was in the middle of the two, bright white and standing out between the two dull horses, she stood proudly despite being shorter than them, like a sunflower amongst daffodils; you mounted your horse first, then the men followed, allowing you to take the lead as they trailed behind either side of you.    
"So, where we goin'?" Arthur asked eventually, trying his best not to race up to you and ride beside you.    
"Just the saloon," you assured, shrugging as your horse trotted along the dirt path, slow and steady in her pace, but not too slow. "Just wanna have a quiet drink and drown the stress of the week, y'know?"    
Trelawny had to admit, his heart sank a little at your words; granted, he wasn't overly keen on a certain outlaw tagging along, either, but your words simply toppled him over the edge as he sighed and gripped the reigns a little tighter. " And here I thought you just wanted to spend time with me, (y/n)."    
"I do!" You yelped, slowing down your horse a little to get between him and Arthur. "I do wanna spend time with you, Josiah, really, but you know how stressful this week's been for me... I just wanna relax, have a few drinks with my mates, and then go home."    
He nodded, masking his frown with a painted on smile. "I know, dearest, I was only joking."    
'Dearest' - oh how that word made Arthur grit his teeth and tightly clench his jaw when he heard it; he wasn't sure as to why, but the pang in his chest returned upon hearing it, and he cleared his throat, preparing to speak.    
"I, uh, I gotta get my horse some stuff, I'll meet you two at the saloon when I'm done."    
You frowned a little, shoulders slumping as you dared to look over at him. "Bit sudden, but alright."    
Quickly, Arthur had to think of an excuse as to why he suddenly mentioned his horse needing provisions, his words stuttered and faltered as he explained, "yeah, I know, I, uh, I just noticed, was all."    
"Well, as long as you promise it won't take too long..." you tried to hide the slight sadness in your voice but simply couldn't as you looked down at your horse's mane, trying to look anywhere but Arthur or Trelawny.    
"It won't, darlin', promise."    


* * *

Sat at a table in the corner of the saloon, you nursed a beer while chatting to Trelawny; Arthur's absence was unusual, and although you laughed and joked along with the dandy conman magician, the outlaw's presence was sorely missed, and you kept asking yourself as to why he had not yet come back.    
After a while, Trelawny picked up on the bad mood you had done so well at hiding from him. "You seem distracted, dearest, is something the matter?"    
You let out a confused, curt, yelp as you shook your head and put on a painted smile to hide the pain of not having Arthur with you, as well. "No, no, I'm fine, just... just wondering where Arthur got to."    
A pang of jealousy and something sour hit Trelawny in the chest harshly. "I'm sure he'll be here soon, he probably just got caught up in a spot of business is all." He reached out his hand, daring to hold your own and gently squeeze it. "He'll come back, my love, don't worry."    
Despite Trelawny’s reassurance, you couldn’t deny that the feeling was still very much there, but just as you were about to open your mouth to say something, the saloon doors swung open, and a familiar shadow trudged in, looking down at the floor, but the worn black hat and blue shirt caught your attention, and you smiled a little as you waved Arthur over. 

“Sorry I took so long, darlin’,” Arthur said, holding his hand up to the bartender to signal the fact that he wanted a beer. “The stable-hand, he, uh, he asked if I could help him with breakin’ in one of the new horses.”

You nodded in understanding, a slight rush of relief coursing through your veins as you relaxed a little in your chair. “It’s fine, Arthur, really.”

“You say that,” Trelawny jumped in, his eyes on you. “But, you were getting yourself in such a huff a minute ago, dearest.”

“I didn’t mean to cause you no stress, (y/n),” Arthur’s words were apologetic as he slipped his hat off and put it on the table, the sadness in his eyes seemingly glowing. Honestly, he never even thought his absence would be noticed. “I'll make it up to ya, promise.” 

Pouting a little, you nodded. “You best do, Mister Morgan.” 

“Oh, I will,” the outlaw assured. “How ‘bout a huntin’ trip, just you and me, for around, let's say, two, three days? Startin’ tomorrow mornin’, o’ course.” 

The offer was tempting you had to admit, but you knew that you couldn't accept an offer like that from Arthur Morgan so quickly. “Only if I get to choose where we're going.” 

The smirk on Arthur's face could never be hidden as he shrugged and attempted to hide it by scratching his chin with his thumb. “Sure thing, darlin’, whatever you want.” 

No one had seen it, but at that point, Trelawny's jaw clenched, and he found it hard to keep his voice held as he cleared his throat. “Speaking of romantic getaways, (y/n), dearest, how would you like to accompany me into Saint Denis next week to see if we can find any leads?” 

You didn't see or think any harm of his question, so you shrugged, and nodded; your train of thought was that, due to the recent hustle and bustle of the gang, that Trelawny and Arthur were simply making up for lost time. “Fuck it, why not?” 

* * *

Before the night had ended, you and Arthur walked Trelawny to the hotel across the road and said your goodbyes before mounting your horses and heading back to camp, the ride was awkwardly quiet, neither you nor Arthur wanting to say or admit anything on your minds.

But eventually, you couldn't hold it in any longer. “Uh… earlier on, when you suddenly went off to the stables, was it… was it because of something I did, or said?” 

Slowing his horse down a little, Arthur shook his head, brows furrowed. “No, course not, darlin’, you couldn't do anythin’ or say anythin’ to upset me, you know that.” 

You nodded, chewing the inside of your bottom lip. “I, I know, but… I dunno, I just felt like it was somehow all my fault.” 

“Ain't your fault,” he said, nearly softly as he reached over and placed a hand on your shoulder, a small, crooked, smile reaching his lips. “Trust me. You're alright.” 

You smiled a little, no longer pulling at the flesh of your lip as you rested your hand on top his. “Thanks, Arthur, really.” 


	4. Arthur's Time

Arthur spent the night unable to sleep, painfully aware of how you looked earlier, bathed in the orange light of sundown, a pang in his chest when he thought back to how you were acting around Trelawny; he fidgeted in his cot, trying to sleep but to no avail. It was taking its toll on his own mind how you seemed to content and so… happy to be with the con man, how you looked so gorgeous when you were laughing but how much pain it caused to know it wasn't him that was making you laugh like that, how beautiful you were when you were relaxed but how it hurt to know it wasn't because of him; you were like a sunflower amongst thorns and weeds, so beautiful and gentle and kind and inspiring despite your circumstances. With a groan, Arthur sat up, reaching over to the barrel by his cot and grabbing his journal and pencil; all he could think of was you, and when he opened up the busted old book, Arthur found himself sketching you, using the dim light from the dwindling campfire nearby to see, each stroke of his pencil a speck of detail as he sighed and did his best. So focused on drawing you, Arthur hadn't even noticed that the sun had risen, casting an orange shadow across camp; it wasn't until Hosea came up to him, tapping his shoulder and offering a cup of coffee, that he finally closed his journal and cleared his throat to rid himself of the exhaustion in his veins. 

“Thanks,” Arthur grumbled when the older outlaw pressed the metal cup into his hands before walking off; quickly, Arthur knocked back his coffee before walking over to your tent. He paused outside, gathering his courage before he gently tugged at the beige fabric. “Uh, (y/n)?” 

You grumbled, snuggling into your blanket. “Five more minutes, Arthur…” 

A small smile graced his lips, you were so pretty when you were tired. “C'mon, darlin’, up and at ‘em.” 

Letting out a huff, you sat up, bags under your eyes as you looked at him, but even still, Arthur had to admit, you were still as radiant as a sunflower. “Fine, I'm up… let me grab my stuff, and we'll head out - or are you so impatient that you want me to wear this for the next two days and scare off the deer with my stink?” 

Arthur let out a chuckle, shaking his head at you. “Pack your things, if you want, I can help?” 

“Alright,” you shrugged, getting out of your cot and going to the best at the end of it, the work and beaten up box incredibly aged and bruised but still able to hold all of your clothes - or, at least, the ones that had been salvaged from Blackwater. “Sit on my cot, as I pass ‘em, you can fold.” 

“Sure.” He agreed, folding up every bit of clothing that was handed to him, granted, it was messy and probably far from good, but it was folded nonetheless, and it made it easier for you to then pack your things into your satchel. Standing up, Arthur cleared his throat, avoiding your gaze as the nervousness of being so close to you began to settle into his head. “You ready, darlin’?” 

“One more thing!” You yelped, snatching your picture of sunflowers off of the fabric wall and stuffing it into your pocket before turning to him and nodding. “Alright, ready when you are, cowboy.” 

Arthur smiled a little at that, the heat of blush arising upon the tips of his ears and nose. “C'mon, then, if we're gonna make it to the fields before dark, we might wanna leave now.” 

You followed him out to where your horses were hitched, loading your saddle up on your horse and petting her bright white neck, but just as you were about to untie her, Trelawny walked down the trail that lead outside of camp, and immediately made his way to you - much to Arthur's chagrin. 

“(Y/N), dearest!” He called, waltzing over and adjusting his tie. “I just want you to know that, should you run into any trouble at all, I'm going to be staying in that little village not far from where you're going hunting.” He gently seized your hand in his own, pressing a kiss to your knuckles that had Arthur clenching his jaw; with a smile, Trelawny spoke again, “stay safe, I'll wait for your return.” 

You smiled politely back a him, nodding as you gently squeezed his hand. Every small interaction between you and Trelawny was like a knife in poor Arthur's chest as he watched you. “I'll be fine, Josiah, I'm going with Arthur, he'll keep me safe,” you mounted your horse and waved at him. “I'll see you in a couple days, mate!” 

Your horse followed Arthur's down the trail until there was enough time for you to ride beside him; he couldn't think of words to say, his eyes focused on the road ahead as his jealousy swarmed his mind. Finally, he gathered up enough nerve to speak, his voice rough but no more so than usual. “You and Trelawny are gettin’ awful close, ain't ya?” 

You let out a soft chuckle, raising a brow at him. “Why do you care, Mister Morgan? You jealous?” 

The blush returned to Arthur's features as he cleared his throat and let out a low grumble. “I just wondered. He follow ya around like a damn dog, sometimes.” 

You shook your head, the smile on your face even more beautiful than a sunflower this time. “He's just a friend… I mean, don't get me wrong, he's really pretty, really,  _ really _ , pretty, but… it wouldn't be a good idea.” 

A spot of hope grew in Arthur's chest like a speck of spilled ink on paper as he did his best not to smile. “What makes you think it wouldn't be a good idea?” 

“People like us don't get happy endings…” there was an unmissable sadness in your voice as you sighed and shrugged. “We either die, get caught, or both. We ain't good people, some of us don't deserve love, happiness, a chance at a good, honest, life,  normality.” 

Arthur frowned at your words, granted, he was cynical himself, perhaps even more than you, but your words hurt; to hear you say that you weren't a good person, that you didn't deserve love, or happiness, or a chance for a different life… it weighed heavily upon the outlaw's heart. “What if you started courtin’ someone like me? Or Charles? Javier? Would that make things any different?”

You considered it for a moment, thinking that the question was simply hypothetical, you had to admit, Charles and Javier were very attractive, but they weren't Arthur; the thought of maybe getting out of the gang alive and settling down somewhere out West, away from the rest of the world and from its civilisation and drama was indeed tempting, but you knew it would never be anything but a fantasy. “Not really. I mean, the thought of finding a place out West and settling down… it's a nice idea… but it'd never be real.” 

Arthur let out a low hum, unable to find something to say, as he knew that you were right; finding a place and settling down and getting away from the gang was something he had thought of before, but loyalty bound him to stay, and created a thick stone wall between a semi-decent life and a chance to live ordinarily. He would never leave the gang, he would never make it out of that life alive, and he had accepted it long ago. Taking a quick look around, Arthur spotted the fields - they weren't too far, now, an hour's ride at most, but it was getting dark, the sun hidden behind a smog of dark grey clouds that had begun to settle across the darkening cobalt sky. Birds were beginning to let their operas die down as they snuggled into their nests for the night. The sprinting deer were starting to wander off to find somewhere to hide and sleep. Foxes were starting to replace the coyotes and jackals, chasing rabbits that were still awake but nonetheless fatigued from being chased and hunted all day long. The call of the nocturnal wolves were just starting to sing, their melancholic lyrics floating through the air softly, just beginning. The wild horses had even run off, staying close in their herds as they hid amongst the tallest blades of grass. It was far too late to hunt, already, and Arthur could hear your stomach rumbling. “We'll camp over there for the night,” he said, pointing East. “I got some scraps in my bag, enough to feed us both for a few days. If you want, I can get some firewood an’ cook us up somethin’ to eat.” 

The change of subject was unnoticed by you as you could feel the ache in your stomach while it growled and rumbled; you hadn't eaten all day, so you nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, sounds good… while you're off doing that, though, I'll set up camp, get the tents and whatnot all up.” 

Arthur agreed, and as soon as you hitched the horses up and dismounted, he was off to get firewood, leaving you to pitch the tents, which was far from hard work; in fact, you had it all done a long time before Arthur returned, even though it didn't take him too long to gather up firewood, and once he was finally starting to make the campfire, you went through his satchel, and grabbed the small bits and pieces he needed to make dinner. Working as a team with Arthur almost came naturally, the two of you easily got along and had very few conflicts or quarrels, it was almost as if you and Arthur were meant to work as a pair. You were pulled from your thoughts when the fire started to crackle, and you passed Arthur the food quickly before taking a seat while he cooked; he was far from the best chef, but at the same time, he was better than Pearson when he wanted to be. At least what Arthur cooked was edible. 

“Last time I went huntin’ overnight with someone was when me and Hosea went to find that damn bear,” he admitted, staring into the fire for fear that looking at you would bring a heat to his face that wasn’t caused by flames. “I kinda miss it.” 

You tilted your head a little to the left, raising a brow curiously at the outlaw. “Miss what, exactly, Arthur?”

He shrugged, shaking his head and placing his hat down behind him. “Y’know, just… bein’ able to get away for a couple days… not havin’ to listen to everyone’s damn arguments.”

Nodding, you cleared your throat and dared to move a little closer to him. “I get what you mean, I really do… but, hey, think of it as a holiday - it’s just you, and me, and Hell, we could stay out here for a day or two more and then, when we go back, we can tell the gang that it was a lot harder to find something decent to eat.” 

Arthur considered it; staying a little while extra, out in the wilderness, with you, was incredibly tempting, but the wall of loyalty to Dutch and the gang was hard to break through, and so, Arthur shook his head, disappointment in his chest and perhaps even a tingling fear of anxiety in his head that you would think he didn’t want to spend time with you wrapping around his thoughts. “We got duties, responsibilities, the gang needs us - wouldn’t be right to just go… runnin’ off in the wild for longer than we promised.” 

You couldn’t shrug off the feeling of disappointment that settled in your chest when Arthur declined your idea, but you knew that he was only looking out for the gang, which made you feel a little better as you hummed softly. “You’re not wrong there, Mister Morgan - maybe, some other time, when we’re not all fighting just to breathe?”

“Sure.” Arthur agreed, looking over at you and offering a small, shy, smile as he did his best not to blush furiously at the way you looked at him; quickly, he cleared his throat, looking back at the food - it was all but done, so he grabbed his knife, and moved it all into a large pan that you had brought with you. The steam was rising from it, and the smell was intoxicating as you grabbed your own knife and began eating, almost choking and spitting out the first bite when it scorched your tongue, making Arthur laugh a little as he watched you. “Hot?”

You nodded, grumbling something completely incoherent before blowing on the food before eating it. “Good, though.” 

The two of you ate in comfortable silence, the lack of noise - save the fire crackling and the distant wolf howls and the screaming foxes, not to mention, the occasional fluttering of owl feathers and bat wings - so relaxing and lovely, you couldn’t remember the last time when, at camp, things were so quiet and, well, peaceful; ever since Blackwater, camp had been a mess, so loud and overwhelming it often felt like drowning in air, of course, the natural paranoia of being found by bounty hunters or lawmen was still at the back of your head, but you were so used to it that it seemed about as trivial as that one lonely star that shone away from the others, in its own little spot of obsidian. 

“What you say we crack open a whisky?” Arthur asked, intending for it to be nothing more than a drink between two gang members, two friends, despite the thumping of his heart. 

You shrugged, alcohol sounded oh so gorgeous, as did tobacco and Arthur’s voice. “Fuck it - why not?” You let him grab the bottle and take the first swig before you grabbed it and knocked it back, the burn coursing down your throat and into your stomach, making you relax a little more and sigh. “Fuck, that’s basically ‘shine, innit?”

Arthur let out a chuckle, checking the bottle before he cleared his throat. “Unfortunately not, darlin’, you just can’t handle whisky.” 

Mockingly, you scoffed and acted offended, going so far as to put your hand on your chest and move your shoulders back a little. “Ex-fucking-cuse me, Mister Morgan?” You playfully slapped his shoulder, noticing how he was biting back a bark of laughter and blushing. “I ain’t the one that got into a brawl in Valentine on the first damn day we were there!”

Arthur shoved you jokingly as he let out a snot of laughter. “That weren’t my fault, and you know it!” 

“Whatever you say, Daddy-o,” you tittered, failing to see the way his blush grew more harsh in colour and how he shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck at the fact that you had just said that. “Although, I gotta admit, it was kinda attractive to see you all dirty and sweaty.” 

He nearly choked on air at your words, the thought of you finding him even a little bit attractive making him question if you were sick, he couldn’t believe that anyone - let alone you - would find him the least bit appealing to the eyes, even Mary used to say that his scars were an eyesore and that he wasn’t the best looking man. “Think you need to get yourself some glasses, darlin’, ‘cause I ain’t pretty.” 

You scoffed again, taking another swig from the bottle and wincing at the burn again. “Yes, the fuck, you are. Arthur, you’re damn beautiful, mate!”

Arthur muttered something under his breath that you didn’t quite hear before he gulped down another load of whisky. “You’re only sayin’ that ‘cause you’re my friend, (y/n).” 

“Nah, I ain’t,” you shook your head. “I’m saying that because I’m being honest. You, Arthur Morgan, are damn beautiful, even if you don’t believe it.” 

“You wouldn’t say that if you saw what was under here,” he grumbled, gesturing to his clothes by tugging at his shirt a little. 

“Wanna bet?” You asked, raising a brow. “‘Cause I might not be a gambler, but I’ll put a couple dollars down that I would absolutely still say you were beautiful.” 

Once again, Arthur shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck and clearing his throat. “Maybe some other time, when we ain’t as exposed.” 

“Deal,” you smirked a little, holding out your hand for him to shake. “The second we’re alone, and not in the wilderness, you can show me what you’ve been hiding beneath all them layers.” 

Shaking your hand to seal the deal, Arthur had to admit, he was wondering about what lied beneath your clothes, but he would never put words to his wonderment, unless if you brought up the subject, he didn’t want you to think or feel that he was only after one thing like every other person was; standing up, Arthur took a quick look around, making sure no bounty hunters or lawmen had found your little camp, before he looked down at you, and spoke, “it’s gettin’ late, if we wanna get anythin’ half-decent for camp, we gotta be up early tomorrow.”

You stood up, then, kissing his cheek sweetly and loosely holding his hand. “G’night, Arthur.” 

Thankfully, he was stood at such an angle that the light from the fire didn’t show how much he was blushing as he nodded and tried to find his voice. “Night, darlin’.”

* * *

 

You woke up just before dawn, groggy and in a slight daze, you made your way outside your tent, and stretched before grabbing your packet of cigarettes and lighting one up, the smoke so clear in the early morning air that was cold and crisp and fresh; everything was so quiet, even the birds that had gotten up early to start their operas were only quietly singing amongst each other, as if making sure their mysterious lyrics were correct before they could begin. Pale grey, the sky was painful to look at, so bright and nearly white, the sun not yet risen, not a cloud in sight, the occasional black shadow of a bird rushing across it a stark contrast; you looked over at the horses, only to see them still asleep, resting their heads on one another, it made you smile a little as you began to feel a little more awake. You figured you would treat Arthur to breakfast, so as soon as your cigarette was finished and put out, you used up a little more food to make him something nice as you waited for him to get up, and when he did, you smiled a little. 

“You made me breakfast?” Arthur asked, eyeing up the small pots; they smelled amazing, so much better than what Pearson ever made in his life, and looked twice as edible. 

You nodded, sitting down with him. “Can’t hunt on an empty stomach - the grumbling might scare away the deer.” 

He let out the softest of chuckles, nodding. “I s’pose you’re right there, darlin’.” 

“I’m always right, Morgan,” you teased with a little smirk. “We both know that.” 

“Not always,” he commented, watching you fondly, the way a poet looks at their muse, the way a painter looks at their inspiration, the way a writer looks at their main reason for creativity; that curious fondness in Arthur’s eyes could make gold melt. “You ain’t been right about a few things.” 

You hummed, giving him a curious look. “Name one thing.” 

“Maybe some other time.” 

* * *

Hunting with Arthur was quiet, voices kept hush and conversations cut short when a deer was within range of the bow; but, when you had enough food to keep the camp fairly well-fed, it returned to semi-normal. You couldn’t head back just yet, though, not when you were both covered in mud and blood and fur and smelling like a bog, so you decided to stop a little way away from a waterfall near the river.

“I’m gonna go wash myself off,” you said, hopping off of your horse and handing Arthur the reins. “I won’t be long.” 

“Sure,” Arthur mumbled, leaning forward in his saddle, your horse’s reins wrapped around his wrist as he sighed and watched you wander off; he could hear the sound of the water crashing, He did his best not to think of you, soaking wet, beneath the spraying water, naked as the day you were born, but he couldn’t help it, and swallowed thickly, shaking his head and clearing his throat as his cheeks began to burn pink. “Goddamnit…” 

He ran a hand down his face, deciding to light up a cigarette and doodle in his journal to keep himself busy while you were over there, not too far, but far enough to be out of sight, washing yourself off; delicately, but with a shaking hand, Arthur started to sketch you. 

How you looked in the morning. 

How you looked when you saw that daffodil, gleaming in the sunlight, while he was busy skinning a deer. 

He focused on your face, your eyes especially, trying to capture how gorgeous they looked when the light hit them at a certain angle, but his artistic talents did nothing for your beauty, and he feared that if you ever saw any of his many drawings of you, you would be offended that he hadn’t been able to truly capture how utterly radiant you were. 

Just as he was about to put the finishing touches to the shading on his drawing, you walked over, taking your horse’s reins back and mounting the steed, getting comfortable in your saddle. 

“You ready, cowboy?” You asked with a raised brow and a smirk. “Or, you too preoccupied trying to be Van Gogh - even though you’re far more talented?”

With a little smile, Arthur tucked his journal away, and sat up properly again. “Nah, I’m ready whenever you are, darlin’, just say the word.” 

* * *

When you got back to camp, the afternoon sun was hot and high in the sky, grinning like the cat that got the milk, the dog that got the bone, that outlaw that got the cash, the air was hot but the whispering breeze was welcoming and cool and even crisp as it spoke in its soft voice, you and Arthur unloaded everything you had killed, and gave it to Pearson, who was more than grateful for it all; but, just as you were about to go to your tent, Arthur stopped you, clearing his throat and looking down at the ground as he removed his hat and fiddled with the brim, rough fingers tracing the cracks and bumps and little knocks and intricate wounds on the fabric.

“I, uh, I wanted to give you this,” he said, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a folded up piece of paper, pressing it into your hands. “Figured you might want it.” 

Unfolding the paper, you nearly grinned when you saw it was a gorgeous sketch done by the man himself, of a field of daffodils and sunflowers, every little petal drawn in such beautiful detail that you nearly wanted to cry. “It’s gorgeous, Arthur, thank you.” 

You kissed his cheek, then, and walked away, leaving him a blushing, stuttering, smiling, mess; however, his good mood was soon soiled when he saw Trelawny walking over to you, entering your tent behind you and closing the flaps tightly. He frowned, shaking his head and feeling that same emptiness in his chest, the same tightening in his stomach, the same tightness that had his jaw clenching and his hands balling at his sides. 

“Hey, Arthur-”

“Not now!” Arthur snapped at whoever was trying to get his attention; he knew he shouldn’t have snapped, but he couldn’t help it as he trudged over to his own tent and sat on the edge of his cot, silently cursing himself for being so stupid and foolish and utterly idiotic.

 


	5. Flattery

Sitting on your clothes trunk, Trelawny held his hands in his lap as he watched you tidy up your tent a bit; he had offered his help, but you had rejected his offer, telling him that he didn’t need to worry about helping you, you could handle it yourself. 

“So, how was hunting with Mister Morgan, dearest?” He asked, looking at you so softly and fondly, with a hidden love in his eyes; such a look was one that people would expect Romeo to give to Juliet, or Hamlet to Ophelia. It was a look that could end wars and breed love. 

You shrugged, putting up the picture Arthur had drawn you right above your cot so that you could look at it most days. “Quite good - we managed to hunt enough to keep everyone fed for a little while, it wasn’t too bad… a nice little break.” 

Trelawny nodded, trying not to show that his heart was aching and clanging against his ribs in a jealous rage. “And are you still up for joining me in Saint Denis next week?”

You paused, having completely forgotten about that, but you nodded, and sat beside him at last. “I said I’d go with you, didn’t I?”

“That you did,” he confirmed. “I could put it in writing, if you wish?”

Letting out a soft chuckle, you playfully nudged his shoulder. “C’mon, I’m not that bad. When abouts are you thinking of going?”

“We need to be there for Monday morning, but we’ll get started on Tuesday,” he replied, “that way, we’ll have enough time to get there, get settled into a hotel room, and suss out what places are better for finding leads.” 

“Sound,” you agreed. “I gotta hand it to you, Josiah, you’re getting real good at this.”

“I learned from the best,” Trelawny said, never taking his gaze from you. “And the most beautiful.”

You rolled your eyes, looking away from him for a second. “Flattery don’t mean shit when I’ve already said I’d go with you.”

“Oh, I know,” he smiled, looking down at his hands for a moment. “But, it doesn’t hurt, now, does it?”

“I s’pose not,” you shrugged. “So long as you don’t take it too far.” 

“My dear, I never take anything too far,” Trelawny smirked. 

“Of course you don’t, Josiah.” 


	6. Josiah's Time

The rest of the week went by with its usual routine, Dutch shouting at you for snapping at Micah or for punching him in the nose for something he said, Hosea pulling you aside shortly after to tell you that if you wanted to hurt Micah you had to do it when Dutch wasn’t looking, sitting at the campfire talking to Charles and Javier and Arthur and Lenny until the wee hours of the morning, laughing with Sean in the mornings, doing chores and favours for the rest of the camp whenever they asked, and before you knew it, Monday morning had rolled around, and Trelawny was rudely waking you up by yanking your tent open and exclaiming that it was time to go. 

“Can I at least nap while we ride?” You whined, rubbing your eyes and yawning; you had agreed that it would be easier to just take his horse there, and you were hoping that he would let you sleep most of the way. 

“Of course, dearest,” Trelawny chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and escorting you to his horse, just as Arthur happened to walk by to get his morning coffee; no one saw, but when Arthur saw how Trelawny was holding you, the outlaw tensed up, jaw clenched, fists at his side, shoulders back and eyes to the ground. Trelawny got up on his horse, first, then helped you up in front of him, holding onto your waist and keeping the horse at a cantering speed - there was no rush. “If you nod off, I’ll wake you up when we get to Saint Denis, alright?”

You nodded, slightly snuggling into him and leaning the back of your head against his shoulder. “Yeah, cheers.” 

Snug against Trelawny, you were relaxed as you began to nod off, closing your eyes and trying not to think of how well you fit into his embrace, but just as you were about to fall asleep for good, you heard Trelawny say something that kept you awake. 

"Sweet dreams, my sunflower… what a shame it is that I can't tell you I love you." 

Those words haunted you throughout the rest of the journey, keeping you awake as you sat there with your eyes closed, drowning in your thoughts; sure, he was good looking, and funny, and charming, but he often disappeared on the gang, which made you wonder, if you did pursue something romantic with him, would he disappear on you, too? Would you wake up one day to find that he was gone, leaving you with an empty and wilted and withered heart? Could you really get involved with him, when he wasn't even going to be there most of the time? Could you carry that with you? 

You were still deep in thought when Trelawny stopped outside of the hotel and gently 'woke' you, and when you opened your eyes and realised where you were, you breathed out a sigh; while you grabbed the bags, he went inside to check in, and when that was done, you followed him to the room, only to nearly choke on the air you were breathing when you saw it. It was a grand room, decorated with luxury from the ceiling to the smallest of carpet fibres, the double bed at the far end was plush and readily made and utterly inviting; you dropped the bags by the door, kicking off your boots and walking over before flopping down on the soft mattress, contently sighing. It had been far too long since you last slept in a proper bed, let alone one as lush and soft. 

"Can't I just stay here 'til we gotta go back?" You muttered, inhaling the sweet scent of the sheets. 

Trelawny shrugged as he brought the bags down to the foot of the bed, he sat at the edge on the other side, gently patting your shoulder. "If that's what you want, dearest." 

You wanted to roll your eyes, but the tone in his voice, the way the words left his mouth, made you swallow thickly as you got on your knees, the mattress dipping slightly when you did so. "I gotta ask you something." 

He smiled, tilting his head slightly to the side. "You know you can ask me anything, sunflower." 

The words stuck in your throat; were you seriously about to ask him if he had a romantic inclination towards you? What if he didn't and you had jumped to conclusions and your words were about to ruin everything? Shaking your head, you sighed, thinking it best to just ask and get it out of the way. "Do you fancy me?" 

Trelawny looked stunned for a second. Of course he did, but he was guilty of not telling the whole truth, if only out of fear that it would break your heart. He ran a hand through his slicked back hair, keeping it stuck down. "Of course, I do… but, there's something you must know." 

You raised a brow at him, wondering what secrets such a man had that he couldn't confide them with an outlaw. "Tell me." 

"I have a wife," he whispered, "and children… they're the reason I tend to… leave… the camp. I try to support them as much as I can, but my wife, she… she wishes to end our marriage because there's no love between us anymore." 

You frowned, reaching out and holding his shoulder. "Josiah, I'm so sorry. I… I really don't know what to say, or do." 

"It's fine, dearest," he offered a smile, putting on a mask. "I just… it's something I want you to know." 

You nodded, kissing his cheek sweetly. "Thank you, for telling me." 

"Now!" He suddenly exclaimed, standing up and clapping his hands. "To answer your previous question, I do fancy you, (y/n), and I would be overjoyed if you would agree to embark on a romantic quest with me." 

You did your best not to show how shocked you were at his sudden change of behaviour and subject, but you figured it best not to pry, and shrugged. "I dunno… can I think on it, for a little while?" 

He nodded, taking both of your hands in his own and kissing along your knuckles. "Take all the time you need." 

* * *

You didn’t speak to Trelawny about what had been said until you were walking through Saint Denis with him, holding his hand to stop him from getting split from you; he had suddenly stopped at a stall selling flowers, flowers that reminded him of you - the most brightest and bold and beautiful of sunflowers, put on display along with daffodils and marigolds and pretty wild flowers.

“I get that you fancy me, flowers aren’t gonna help,” you joked, tugging at his hand. 

“Now, now, dearest,” he tutted, giving you that far too charming smile of his. “Let me buy you one - please?”

You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile at him and his gestures. “Fine. But just one, got it?”

Trelawny nodded, and spoke quietly with the person behind the stall before he handed them a few coins and, in return, they gave him a massive bouquet of sunflowers; turning to you with a grin, Trelawny held them out and watched you the way an artist looked upon a masterpiece. “This counts as one.”

You took the flowers from him, letting out a soft chuckle as you held them tightly. “If you say so, Josiah.” 

“I do say so,” he stated. “Just as I say that you’re one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met.” 

You scoffed, nudging his shoulder with your own. “What did I say about flattery?”

“It doesn’t hurt now, does it?” Trelawny asked softly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you used both hands to hold the flowers. 

You couldn’t help but to lean into his touch as you shook your head. “I s’pose not… you realise I’m gonna need time to think about… all that stuff, though, right?”

“Of course!” He nodded. “Dearest, even if it takes you years, you can have all the time to think about it.” 

“Thanks.” 


	7. Advice

To you, the only logical step when you and Trelawny got back to camp was to talk to someone - you considered talking to Javier, Charles, Lenny, even Sean, but ended up deciding against it, as although you were close to them all, you were much closer to Arthur, and you knew that he would have some advice that actually came from Hosea once-upon-a-time and he had somehow remembered. You found Arthur within minutes of returning to camp, sat with his back against a tree, sketching and writing in that journal of his, the sunlight dripping like spilled ink against his black hat, it made you breathe out a sigh of relief as you dared to walk over and sit down beside him, your head on his shoulder. 

“Have fun?” Arthur asked, wrapping an arm around you so that he could keep you steady while he continued to draw; it seemed to be a picture of a large fish, unlike any other you had ever seen, and you were enchanted by the way his pencil graced the old pages. 

You shrugged and hummed, trying not to frown. “It was okay, yeah.” 

“Why’d you say it like that?” He grumbled, trying to hide his jealousy, his concern, and his worry all at once. 

“Josiah… he wants to… he fancies me,” you began, “and I… well, I ain’t too sure if I feel the same for him, to be fair.” You pulled away to run a hand through your hair and watch the dying sunlight. “I dunno what to do, Arthur. I really don’t.” 

Putting away his journal and pencil, Arthur hummed lowly, relationships and feelings were far from his area of expertise, and even then, he thought himself to be too stupid to come up with even a scrap of quarter-decent advice, but he was going to try. Arthur always tried, for you. 

“Keep your distance from him,” Arthur said, hoping that whatever he said wouldn’t make him seem as if he only had half a brain. “Y’know, try not to force yourself to feel somethin’ you don’t. See if he makes you feel like, like you’re in love… shit, I dunno, (y/n), I’m sorry, darlin’, but I ain’t the man to speak to about these things - I’ll help as much as I can, but I ain’t smart enough.” 

You frowned, tilting your head to the side. “Arthur, you’re more than smart enough, mate… but, if you really dunno either, who do you think I should go and talk to?”

He shrugged, pursing his lips together for a moment and taking a quick look around camp; John was out of the question, as was Dutch, Lenny and Sean were too young to know about those kinds of things, Swanson was passed out near the campfire, man couldn’t handle his whisky for Hell, Javier was a good option, though, as was Charles, but they were both busy by the looks of it, Bill was useless, Abigail was sorting her young son Jack out, Grimshaw and Pearson were out of the question, too… Hosea, though, Hosea might have known a thing or two about your particular predicament, and he looked like he had a couple of minutes free. 

“Hosea,” Arthur told you with a small smile. “He’ll help ya out… I’m sorry I can’t, (y/n), really.” 

You shook your head, kissing his cheek and offering a small smile back. “It’s fine, Arthur, honestly. You’re alright.” 

* * *

Approaching Hosea, you were cautious, anxious, but when he saw the shake of your hands, he offered a smile, and patted the spot beside him, inviting you to sit down.

“What’s the matter?” He asked, not quite softly, but nonetheless with care. 

You took a look back to where you had left Arthur, and he gave you a curt nod, a small beacon of encouragement that made you turn back to Hosea and sigh. “I’m a bit stuck, mate… Josiah, he, well, admitted to fancying me, and I… I dunno what to do.” 

Hosea was unusually quiet for a moment, considering and thinking over your predicament, before he cleared his throat and patted your shoulder. “Do nothing. At least, until you know if you feel the same. Don’t distance yourself, but don’t get closer, either.”

“But, how do I know if I feel the same?” You asked, furrowing your brows and tilting your head at the outlaw. 

Hosea rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “You and Arthur are just as stupid as each other, y’know.” He let out a chuckle. “You’ll know. Trust me, (y/n), I went through the same with Dutch.” 

You looked at him in shock for a moment, surprised, to say the least, that not-quite-silver-tongued Hosea ever had a problem such as the one you did. “Really?”

He nodded, letting out a hum of ‘mm-hmm’ before he stood up, offering you his hand and helping you to stand, as well, he pat you on the back and nodded over to Arthur. “But, you might wanna consider someone other than Trelawny - just in case.” 


	8. Sunflowers In Bloom

You took Hosea’s advice, and did nothing except attempt to act as you normally would around Trelawny; but, there was a problem. 

You had been spending a lot of time with Arthur, more than usual, and in that time, you had felt something that you never had before: it was as if the fields of sunflowers in your heart had suddenly bloomed after being left to wilt for months, perhaps even years. It was as if Spring had finally sprung, and the daffodils had come out to show off their bright yellow petals beneath the shining stars that the sunflowers had become. But, you didn’t dare to say anything - mostly because you feared that Arthur would reject you, tell you that you were an idiot for falling for him even though you were in the exact same job and lifestyle as he was, you were worried that he would tell you on the grounds that you deserved “better” - but that was the other thing. 

You didn’t want better. 

You didn’t want some charming gentleman to sweep you off of your feet and shower you in luxury and wealth and compliments that were told through white teeth; you wanted Arthur, who respected you and was kind to you and supported and understood you, who didn’t shower you in luxury or wealth, but rather, showered you with companionship and trust and honesty - things that weren’t material, and meant much more than the typical new dress or expensive locket. 

You didn’t want someone like Trelawny, oh so dashing and charming, armed with a silver-tongue and a killer smile to match, dressed to impress at all times of the day, and devilishly handsome; you wanted Arthur, rugged and scruffy, armed with sarcasm and that lovely shy smile, the contents of his journal showing his artistic and more sensitive side, and drop dead gorgeous. 

But, the more you thought about it, the more you realised that you needed to tell Trelawny first, after all, you didn’t want to lead him on and make him think something was there when, in reality, you only saw him as a friend, someone you loved platonically but otherwise not at all; you just had to figure out how to put it into words. 

* * *

You asked around, especially trying to get advice from Tilly and the women, but everything they suggested was far from the things that you would usually say; so, you settled on asking Arthur, after all, he knew you best, and he was bound to come up with a solution for you, one way or another.

You found him sat with his horse, sketching it in his journal as it grazed beside yours; he looked so peaceful and so relaxed, it made you hesitant to approach - until he removed his hat, and looked up at you, that lovely shy smile upon his lips. 

“Come sit with me, (y/n).” 

You allowed yourself to smile a little as you walked over and sat down beside him, sighing and running a hand down your face as you felt the warmth from the sun and the soft breeze that whispered around you. 

“I’m stuck, Arthur.” You admitted, picking at grass blades and tearing them up before putting them back down again. 

Arthur looked at you, concerned for a moment. “Why? What’s wrong? That Trelawny ain’t gotten you in no trouble, has he?”

You shook your head, keeping your gaze down on the mauled green blades. “No, nothin’ like that… I just… I dunno how to tell Trelawny that I ain’t, y’know, I don’t wanna… I don’t fancy him.” 

He raised an eyebrow at that, looking at you with concerned curiosity. “What you mean?”

You shrugged, finally meeting his gaze and frowning. “Trelawny fancies me, right?”

“Right.” He nodded. 

“But I don’t fancy him back,” you explained, “and I ain’t sure on how to tell him that.” 

“Oh…” 

“Yeah,  _ oh. _ ” 

* * *

You sat there, talking and deliberating with Arthur for a while, it seemed only for mere minutes, but when your attention was finally taken away from him by a devilishly dashing dandy shadow, you realised it was now nearing the hours of the evening; looking up at the shadow, you felt your stomach drop when you realised it was Trelawny, armed with a large bunch of bright sunflowers that made you grin until you realised what you needed to say, what you needed to tell him.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Trelawny asked with a small frown as he gently passed you the flowers and tipped his hat. “I’m not barging in on any outlaw… business, am I?”

You shook your head, swallowing thickly and taking a quick glance at Arthur before smiling at Josiah and gesturing for him to sit with you. “Nah, not at all, mate… in fact, we were just talking about you.” 

“Oh?” He raised a brow, smiling a little and tilting his head to the side, his hat blocking the warm afternoon sun before he took it off and placed it in his lap. “All good, I hope.” 

You and Arthur shared a look before you answered, “well… I actually wanted to have a word with you.” 

“What can I do for you, sunflower?” He hummed, trying his best not to romanticise the way you looked at him and how the sun hugged his back through his blazer and waistcoat and shirt. 

“I… uh… you remember that night in Saint Denis?” You asked lowly, fidgeting in your seat when he nodded and swallowed thickly. “I, uh, well… I’ve done some thinking, and well…” you looked away, not wanting to see the look of pure and utter heartbreak when you said, “well, I don’t feel the same. I’m sorry, Josiah, I love you so much, as a friend, but I just… I don’t love you in that way.” 

“I see,” he nodded, clearing his throat and smiling through the pain; he was hurting, it was evident by the look in his eyes, but he knew he couldn’t change a person’s heart, and he was willing to accept that fact. “Is there someone you have your eye on, darling?”

Once again, you stole a glance at Arthur, and shifted where you were sat; you knew that Trelawny had only asked the question out of curiosity and perhaps even the will to help you confess to the person. “Actually, yeah, there is.” 

“Who?” Both Arthur and Trelawny looked at you as the word slipped from their lips at the same time, making you smile. 

“Ain’t it obvious?” You chuckled, looking over at Arthur, meeting his gaze. “You, Arthur.” 

A flush of panic went through the outlaw’s veins as he cleared his throat and swallowed thickly, the running panic showing on his skin in a thick blush; sure, Arthur was head over heels for you, but you were a sunflower - bright and beautiful and brilliant - and he was… well, he was the thorn on a rose. Your love would be too much for him, especially when considering the fact that he had not loved anyone since Mary, but then again, perhaps a little bit of love was good for him - there was only one way to find out, really. 

And all Arthur had to do was say four words. 


End file.
